


Orange and Blue Don't Go Together

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: Pack Life [2]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: GIVE THEM TIME GUYS, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Find an anchor,</em> he remembers Laura saying. <em>It should be meaningful- it should bind you to your humanity.</em></p>
<p>Derek swallows, thinking of the kid’s gawky legs, how he rolls his eyes. How he’s always so so flippant, and sarcastic, and so fucking human- he’s always thought Stiles blazes humanity, affects everyone around him.</p>
<p>Apparently, he brings it out in Derek, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange and Blue Don't Go Together

At first, Derek doesn’t notice it.

One minute he has a mouthful of fangs, his nails are hardening, a growl is ripping up his throat- and the next, Stiles comes into the room saying something about Isaac stealing his PSP, and stops.

“Dude, you okay?”

Derek means to clack his claws together menacingly, like,  _get the fuck out,_  but he finds he doesn’t have any.

The second time this happens, he starts to wonder, but then some asshole of a werewolf launches herself at Erica, and Derek’s back to alpha-mode again without a hitch, tackling the woman to the ground and pinning her.

The third time, as a wise man had once said, is a pattern, and Derek’s seriously puzzled as to why he stops wolfing out at weird times.

He takes in the variables: first, it had been raining, and then Stiles had come in with that stupid, concerned look on his face. The second, Boyd had been yelling for Stiles to get the car around here, and then Erica had almost been impaled.

The third time, no-one had even  _been_  there, it had just been him and his claws skating in and out, and then he had thought of-

Derek blinks. He looks down at his claws, and imagines Stiles poking his head around the door and asking for his car keys back.

_Snick_.

Derek flexes his fingers, his blunt nails digging into his palms.

_Find an anchor_ , he remembers Laura saying. _It should be meaningful- it should bind you to your humanity_.

Derek swallows, thinking of the kid’s gawky legs, how he rolls his eyes. How he’s always so so flippant, and sarcastic, and so fucking  _human_ \- he’s always thought Stiles blazes humanity, affects everyone around him.

Apparently, he brings it out in Derek, too.

-

Sometimes, Derek wonders what he’d be like without the wolf inside of him.

The empty space, the lack of it pressing up and around and  _through_  his skin, to not have the constant itch at the back of his throat. To not have its tail curled around his ankles, the hot breath down his collar.

To be  _more_  than human, to have that constant knowledge that no matter what happens, he always has the choice to lose himself in the wolf. To just let the human half slip away and run until his breathing is ragged, until his hands- paws- are splitting at the sides.

No matter what, there will always be the woods at night.

More and more, he feels like the human side of him is more transparent than the wolf. Waking up crushed in Laura’s old clothes, tipping his head back and howling when the sky clouds over. For the always-ache of  _Pack_ , of  _Alpha_  and  _Beta_  circling his head like a standoff.

There are days where he can’t keep track of which side is the dominant one.

And after this long, he knows that these kinds of things stick.

Because Derek still dreams of fires.

-

_He’s not good for me_.

Stiles tells himself this, over and over again until it blurs together into nonsense. It beats at the back of his throat during class, it tracks marks across his head during lacrosse, it creeps into his mouth at night until he says it out loud, into the empty darkness:  _he’s not good for me_.

Because Derek isn’t a good match for him, he never was- he’s an asshole, and a convicted felon, and a fucking  _werewolf_ , for fuck sake, but then again, so’s Scott, and he’s okay.

Derek isn’t good for him because Stiles doesn’t even  _like_  him, he doesn’t- he could care less when Derek gets arrested the first time, he’s more worried about the blood staining the car seats than Derek dying, right?

Because Derek slams him into walls and doesn’t care about him, either, and they’re both just swimming in mutual not-caring-ness, and Stiles is fine with it.

Then Derek does something stupid, like he’s an actual person with feelings and a heart, and saves his life once, twice, three times- they lose count at some point, in between Stiles grappling for a hold in Derek’s sodden shirt as he treads water, and Stiles having to be carried out to Jackson’s car after getting his liver run through with a pole, which he still maintains as Scott’s fault.

_He’s not good for me-_ it’s getting fainter with each tight bunch of the words on his tongue, because Derek starts smiling more and someone starts throwing the word  _Pack_  around, and Erica turns out to not be the spectacular bitch that Stiles thought she was, and Isaac is starting to actually  _talk_  to him rather than bitch at him.

_Not-caring_  dissolves somewhere along the way and solidifies into something else, something shifting and liquid but still  _there_ , still the hands that lock around Stiles’s shoulders and keep him from falling over when he has his own hands pressed against a hole in his stomach.

_He’s not good for me_ , Stiles thinks, but it gets lost in the wrap of Derek’s hand around his wrist, tugging him towards the booth, because apparently they have ‘Pack movie nights’ now, ever since Boyd had suggested it a month ago.

_He’s not good for me_ , Stiles thinks, as he watches Derek get yet another almost-fatal wound via jumping in front of him.

_He’s not good for me_ , Stiles thinks, and it gets drowned out by how hard he’s laughing, by how lightheaded he is, by how Derek’s eyes are bunching at the edges and he’s grinning so hard it has to hurt.

_He’s not good_ , Stiles tells himself, but he  _is_ \- he’s self-sacrificing and so guilty it should be causing an actual stoop in his shoulder by now, he’s noble and he’s fucked up and he  _tries_ , he does.

Stiles inhales shakily and says it, but he can hear Derek laughing in the next room over and he hasn’t believed it in a long time, anyway.

-

Stiles makes the chair scrape against the linoleium as nosily as he possibly can.

"I give up."

Scott, Allison and Boyd glance up, but Lydia, Erica, Jackson and Isaac continue to bitch about whoever they're bitching about this time.

Scott says through a mouthful of ham sandwich, "Gi'h up on wha'?"

Stiles shrugs. "I just give up. Y'know. In general."

"Sounds great. Excuse me a second." Boyd shifts slightly before elbowing Erica hard in the ribs.

Erica's growl isn't so much as a wolf growl than a normal, ' _oh my god what the fuck dude not cool_ ' growl. "Ow! What the fuck was that for?"

Boyd just cocks an eyebrow. "Breaking news. Stiles gives up."

Erica looks over at Stiles, who slumps further down in his chair.

"Huh. He does look very unenthusiastic. What exactly did our little human that could give up on?"

"Things," Stiles says. "In general."

"In general," Boyd repeats, spearing a peice of baloney on his fork. "Oi, you three. Tune in."

Jackson, Lydia and Isaac all pause, mid-shriek, and turn. 

"Uh," Isaac says as he catches sight of Stiles. "What's up with the good ol' human?"

"What the hell is up with that nickname?" Stiles hooks a thumb around at Allison. "I'm not the only human in the Pack! Most Packs have humans in th- oh, forget it."

"He  _is_ lacking his usual annoying spirit," Jackson nods towards him. "Like, wow. His mouth is closed. I think I'm going to sit here and cherish this for a moment."

"Fuck you," Stiles mumbles, his pressing his chin into his folded arms. 

He pretends not to notice the look that everyone exchanges.

Isaac nudges him with his shoulder. "You okay, humany-wumany?"

"I hate everything," Stiles declares. "Especially werewolves. And pop quizzes. Which I failed, by the way. If anyone cares."

Lydia wrinkles her nose. "Of course we care," she says, reaching over and grabbing a chip off of his plate and batting him in the cheek with it before popping it into her mouth. "Don't be an idiot."

"We'll help you study," Scott offers. "We haven't had a study session in a whi-"

"I knew the material, jackass," Stiles says, and should probably stop swearing at everyone, but as per mentioned, he currently hates everyone. "I just- I can't concentrate. The adderall hasn't been helping lately. I've been- stressed. Whatever."

"Stressed about-"

" _Everything_ ," Stiles says in a rush. "Come on, this is- the new alpha's been stalking us, and we have no idea who the fuck he is, or why the fuck- and I keep getting hurt, and it's like, well, I'm sorry I'm fucking  _human_ , and I'm supposed to- to- I don't know, I'm just stressed, okay! And I failed the Bio quiz, and I really hate that class, anyway, and I hate  _everything_ right now, including Derek, who  _sucks_ , and I should be helping more, but I can't, because apparently I'm  _vulnerable-_ "

"We don't care if you're human, jerkhole," Jackson cuts him off. "And your freaking sexual crisis shouldn't be-"

"Whoa, hey, what?" Stiles's voice pitches upwards a few octaves. "My what? I'm- that's- that is  _so_ not my top priority right now."

"And fair enough, snow white." Jackson takes a bite of his pizza. "But you haven't exactly been subtle about the whole Dere-"

"Aaaaand scene!" Isaac claps his hands together loudly, and Stiles thinks he hears someone kicking someone under the table. "Jackson, you know what we talked about earlier? About the whole  _shut-up-about-that-thing_  thing?"

"What thing?" Stiles looks between Isaac and Jackson, his head coming up. "You guys  _talk_ about my sexual crisis, what th-"

"It's no big deal," Allison says quickly. "We're totally cool with-"

"Well,  _duh_!" Stiles barely restrains himself from waving his hands. "This town is basically anti-homophobia central, I'm surprised we don't all dress up in drag and march the streets on Gay Pride day! I'm aware that it's not a big deal, I'm also aware you mentioned something about my 'Derek thing,' which I totally don't have. I can't stress how much of a thing I don't have for Derek. I don't have a thing for Derek so much that it transcends words and- and- time and space."

"Uh- _huh_ ," Jackson smirks, and then there's that kicking-under-the-table sound again.

"Shut up," Allison hisses. "We have to let him figure this out on his own!"

Stiles blanches. "Figure  _what_ out? Oh, my god, I cannot believe you guys actually discuss my nonexistant sex life, that is so creepy, I feel abused-"

"Dude," Scott says, looking uncomfortable. "Uh. We're werewolves, we can tell when. You know. Sexual desire and. Stuff."

For a second, Stiles just stares at him wordlessly.

Then he drops his forehead to the table with a muffled bang. 

He raises his head, and drops it. "Fuck- my- fucking- life." He punctuates each word by cracking his head against the desk. "Okay. Just- okay. I'm going to class."

"There's half an hour until-"

"I don't care." Stiles shoves his bag over his shoulder and almost trips getting out of his chair, because he doesn't have amazing fucking werewolf reflexes, because he's still refusing the bite after twelve near-death experiences, a sprained ankle and a broken wrist, because he's a fucking idiot and he's sticking to the whole 'humanity' thing for some reason.

They all start saying his name when he's about halfway across the cafeteria, but he just pulls his hoodie up and keeps walking.

**Author's Note:**

> posted in bits and pieces on my tumblr.


End file.
